Here Today, Gone Tomorrow
by Not at home
Summary: Pre-SH2 what if: James meets Angela in Ashfield as his wife is dying. Any feedback would be appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**_It's 1AM, August 22, 2014. I just posted updated versions of the first three chapters. I hope one day to finish chapter 10. Also credit to Feriku for betaing up until this point. Not sure if she'll still be interested by the time I get a new chapter ready._**

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><p>Maybe it hadn't been such a bad day after all.<p>

It had certainly looked grim that morning when James, barely conscious after a few hours rest, found himself staring at his alarm clock one hour after it was supposed to have woken him up. As he rushed to get himself out the door his mind went back to the same worries that had robbed him of a good night's sleep...and the cause of those worries.

He hated to think of Mary like that, but sometimes he couldn't help it. He also had braced himself for whatever Mary's reaction might be - shock, disdain or despair - but when she finally came out of her room she kept it to herself. Then again, with her own worries perhaps she just didn't have time to fret over him today.

Out the door fifteen minutes late, the final blow of the morning came as he ran to the store to find that no one had beaten him to his usual parking space after all. Parking further away had still got him in with ten minutes to spare, less than he was used to but still good enough, but somehow knowing he had done it for nothing managed to stick in James' craw for most of the day.

Well, at least on the way back he got a fairly peaceful walk. A nice little break between work and the mess at home.

As he walked passed the woman with the sweater under the jean jacket she did seem a little upset, but he barely gave her a second thought. Well, not until she ran past him, her hand over her mouth, off the sidewalk onto a dirt path along the overpass. It had caught him off guard, and he couldn't help but peer around the corner to see what she was doing.

Once she apparently felt she was out of the sight of other pedestrians, the woman fell to her knees. James quickly realized what he was about to see, but didn't turn back as, after a brief false start with a cough, she began vomiting into a ditch. It wasn't even a short burst either - it couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but seeing a seeming continuous stream of clear puke was rather unsettling.

Finally, she threw her body back to lean against the highway, trying to catch her breath.

James's curiosity piqued, it quickly got the better of him. He too began slowly walking down that dirt path. Mary could wait a few more minutes.

One glance from the woman, however, was enough to stop him in his tracks. Her eyes, shown clearly as she pushed her dark shoulder-length hair back while turning to face James, were wide open in shock. Evidently, she did not take kindly to having her privacy, what little she had expected out in the open, violated.

But turning back never crossed James' mind. He would never get another opportunity to find out what had happened, or if he could have done something.

"You okay?"

She seemed about to say something, but it was drowned out by the cars running by, and she gave up on it rather quickly before gulping and turning away.

James continued to approach, squatting down by the woman as, apparently now finished, she turned her head back up, but still not facing the man.

"I'm fine." It was a slightly deeper voice than he had expected, but still rather soft-spoken.

"You sure? Are you sick?"

"It was something I saw at work..." The woman finally turned to look him in the face. "I couldn't stop thinking about it all day."

He looked her over as he got back up. The first explanation that came into James' mind was drugs, and admittedly the woman did look a little pale, but she didn't sound that out of it...at least, not the sort of 'out of it' he would expect. She seemed more sad than anything else.

_But what could you see that's so bad it makes you wanna throw up? Is she a nurse or something?_

"Look. I..." He hesitated. "I feel bad just leaving you here."

No response. He tried again, "What's your name?"

She turned away again, shaking her head and hugging her legs to her chest, before finally blurting out a response. "I'm sorry..."

"About what?"

The woman sighed. "Angela," she finally replied, her voice now more tired.

"James. Sorry if I'm...creeping you out."

"N-no, I..." She sighed again. "I'm okay."

He extended an arm to help her back up. It managed to get Angela's attention, but nothing else.

She shook her head again. "I'm just a little tired...that's all..." Her voice seemed to grow uneasy. "I just need to get home..."

"You sure you're gonna make it there?"

Her mouth was open, but no reply came, and she was looking all the more agitated as she seemed to try and throw one out._ Oh no...I just wanted to help you out..._

"Look," James finally spoke up again. "How about...you know the burger place on Barracks Road? How about I get you something there?"

His offer seemed to only make her even more gloomy; he was pretty sure the woman even had a few tears starting to form._ Yeah...I guess I wouldn't take that kind of condescending pity if I was..._

But then she nodded, and reached out for James' arm again, trembling in his grip and almost topping him as well as she got back onto her feet.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>The soda was not going down easy. Angela didn't expect it to, but at least she got rid of the aftertaste already in her mouth.<p>

It brought her mind back, thankfully for only a moment, to how her mother had her drink soda whenever she was sick when she was a kid. And, even less comforting, how she still reeked of puke, and that anyone else who felt like taking a table outside would smell it soon enough. They'd probably think she was crazy.

_James probably already thinks that. You were treating him like he was gonna kill you or something and here he is buying you dinner._

She tried to not think too much about it as she took another sip. _Maybe he is just nice - not everyone's trying to hurt you. Can you think of anyone else?_

Then she saw him coming out with a tray through the window. _Okay, just...try to act normal._

She took another drink as James approached, setting the tray on the table. "Hey...got you your own fries too."

"Thanks." She tried to make it a little more enthusiastic, afraid that if she still sounded tired and grumpy it would come off as ungrateful. Judging from James' face, it didn't work that well.

Angela took a fry from the closer of the two boxes as James sat down. She gave another glance to the ring on his right hand, another reassurance to herself that nothing was amiss.

James spoke first. "So...what did you see at work?"

She cringed, looking back down to the table._ Oh no...now you're gonna think I'm a freak. How can I even explain this?_

Fortunately, James quickly followed up with "Yeah...talk about making you puke just when you're eating - bad idea."

Angela looked back up again, getting a fleeting glance at what she thought was probably the first time James smiled in front of her.

"Angela, where do you work anyway?"

She began to unwrap the paper around her burger. "The Harbor Motel just down the road. Just in housekeeping." Angela always liked to call it that. It made life a little easier if she could avoid thinking of herself as a maid, and most people were nice enough to let her get away with it.

"Hmm...guess I probably don't wanna know what it was."

As she took a bite James spoke up again. "What do you think?"

"It's...pretty good. Thank you." She hadn't even had time to get the taste of it; fortunately she couldn't find anything wrong with it.

The man got another smile on his face, this one that seemed to last. "I used to come here a lot, ever since I was a kid."

Immediately, he made another comment under his breath, apparently just to himself. "Should get a milkshake too..."

As he noticed he had taken Angela's attention from her meal, his face turned grim again. "My wife...she's been sick for a while now...I figured she might want something. She's going to see the doctor tomorrow."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay...do you have any family around here?"

She shook her head. "I just live a little north from here with a friend. It's...I'm okay."

Angela tried to rush through the last few bites; fortunately, James didn't seem to notice. "Is there anything else you've thought of doing? That you want to do?"

The question stopped her. James further clarified "In a few years from now?", but it didn't help. If anything, her inability to answer just made her feel even worse.

_I can't do this anymore._ "I...I think I should get home soon. I...I don't wanna worry my friend..."

James looked somewhat startled to see her get up out of her chair. "I could give you a ride..."

"N-no...I'd probably stink up your car..."

But she didn't leave just yet. Even if their was some merit to her excuse, and James didn't seem to raise any objections, the man still looked rather upset.

"But...thank you. It was really nice what you did for me...I hope your wife's gonna be okay."

The man rested his head on hand as he let out a sigh. "Thanks."

That was all she needed. Immediately Angela turned and began walking along the street.

She turned at the first corner she reached. It didn't matter that it was in the opposite direction of home; she just had to get away.


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't feel like coming out of her room all morning. Even when the sun had lit up the room completely, she only got out from under the covers of her mattress on the floor to grab a book.

And at first hearing the TV, with the brief interruption of her roommate on the phone, only made her even more reluctant to emerge. It wasn't that Angela didn't like Jessica; she was probably the only person in the whole world she trusted. But all the same she was starting to hate weekends for having her peace interrupted like this.

Finally, she gave up, put the book aside, and reached for some clothes in her laundry basket. Maybe later today she would get them folded up, but for now all she wanted was to take a shower and get out...somewhere.

And the very next thing that came to her mind was James. _What if I run into him? Is he even gonna be in this part of town?_

That Ashfield was a big town didn't cross her mind at all. _If I had just stuck around and talked a bit maybe I would know...then I'd know I wouldn't have to see him again...It's not fair! I was finally able to get away from _him_ and then..._

And it was the moment she realized she had actually made that comparison that finally stirred her to throw the blankets aside. _Enough of this._

* * *

><p>Apparently Jessica wasn't as engrossed in her talk shows as Angela had hoped. Not only had she heard her opening her door, but she also felt like jumping on her first thing in the morning. "Hey! You feeling any better?"<p>

_I was_..."I guess..."

She looked up from behind the sofa. "You still down for FreshMart today?"

Of all the people Angela knew, she was probably most comfortable with Jessica seeing her in the previous day's t-shirt and sweat pants she used as pajamas, but still not by much.

And evidently she spent too much time fretting about it. "You sure you're okay? What happened?"

"I told you. I was feeling sick."

It didn't work; Jessica was getting up. "Come on, be honest with me."

No, she couldn't get out of it. Maybe it was for the better anyway; Jessica understood her as well as...well, she said she knew her better than she knew herself.

Angela pulled out a chair from the kitchen table for herself as Jessica approached. "I was...I really was sick last night."

"But it wasn't food poisoning, was it?"

She weakly shook her head, the closest she wanted to come to apologizing, before setting herself down. "I was at work...I didn't let it get to me until I left...but then..."

"What was it?"

It had taken a whole day, but the initial shock had finally worn off. With a sigh, she began her explanation. "There was...blood on one of the beds. It wasn't a lot - nothing bad happened...but seeing where it was on there reminded me..."

The way Angela trailed off told Jessica all she needed to know. "Oh..."

"I was okay for a while, but when I left I just got so sick thinking about it...and...and I couldn't make it. I ran by the path on the overpass and..."

But she hadn't had time to come to grips with the story's ending; Angela let her face fall into her hands, away from the attention smothering her. "A man saw me throw up."

Jessica waited until she was certain Angela was done. "I'm sorry."

"It was so humiliating. And he went and...he said he wanted to help me...I let him buy me dinner, then I ran away."

"Oh?...well that was nice of him."

She showed her face again, but Angela stayed hunched over in the chair, cringing in shame. "I guess..."

But before any other words could escape, she cut her off, "Yes, it was." Sometimes Jessica would use that almost forceful tone to her, but she knew better than to get angry.

_Besides, you already knew she was right._ Angela nodded.

"I wish I got more than the creeps when I throw up when I get out. You wanna tell me about it later?"

"It...we just talked to each other for a bit. I was scared, though."

Jessica smiled. "You think you'll see each other again?"

"I hope not..."

"What? He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

Angela shook her head. "I'm just not comfortable, okay?"

After a moment, Jessica gave a brief "huh" before returning to the TV.

But she had barely turned around when Angela, fearing she had only frustrated her best friend, spoke up again. "What should I do?"

Jessica didn't even break her stride as she replied, with a hint of a sigh, "Whatever makes you happy."

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><p>When Mary finally got back, she wasn't ready to give James any time of day. He didn't even get to see her; he heard the door open, called out to greet her, and got back a "hello James" in a scornful voice that could have just as easily cursed him out before she shut herself away.<p>

And, for about half an hour, James left it at that. No need to get up from the TV if he was only going to make things worse. Finally, he got up to turn the kettle on and began mentally preparing himself.

He didn't even knock - in the back of his mind he knew that, if given the choice, Mary would not let him talk this through. Instead he cracked open the door to their apartment's study, then waited a few seconds before walking in, just in case she was going to shout at him. The last thing he needed now was to spill that mug of hot peppermint tea all over himself.

When they first moved in they had always said they would make that room another bedroom again, but this was not what they had in mind.

He thought he would find Mary lying down trying to get some rest, or just crying. Today, however, she was at her desk, with only the light of a table lamp, hunched over a letter. As James set the mug down by her he noticed an apparent first draft, written in sloppy pen, presumably discarded before his wife decided to try again in pencil. All the same, he made sure not to set the tea on it.

She finally turned to him. Mary might have never looked worse; for the past three years she had seemingly only gotten emaciated and weaker, but the yellow patches he saw on her face had come as a shock, sending her back to the doctor earlier than she had planned.

She wasn't angry anymore; she seemed, perhaps, a little frightened.

"James...it's over."

He didn't react. Mary's words came too quickly to sink in.

"Doctor Glick told me he saw the tests from last week. He just didn't tell me yet because he wanted to make sure. He said that treatment isn't working anymore."

He just looked at her face. It had been close to three years since he first heard the news, but he had had trouble letting it truly sink in. And after all they had been through they had both convinced themselves they might have a miracle.

Now there was no doubt that, soon, he would never see her again. James braced himself for the punchline. "I'll be dead in two months."

He knew better now than to try and offer empty words of consolation. He instead sat himself at the side of the bed.

She broke the silence first. "James, what should I tell my parents?"

As much as he wanted to be helpful, he couldn't help but go back all those years. There was no way he could say anything that would involve her using the phrase 'I'm sorry,' without bringing up, in his mind if not hers as well, how Mary had acted since she first heard she had no chance of living a full life.

"I'm...gonna miss you?"

"Sure." The sudden softness in her voice was obviously only surface-deep, but James still appreciated it.

He waited for a pause in the gentle scratching of her writing before speaking up again. "So what now?"

"I'm going back to hospital. He set it up this afternoon...he gave me two days to say goodbye, but on Tuesday I'm going back to Weston Creek for good."

It was probably the worst thing he could have heard. Maybe he could have helped her, but when Mary went into hospital she never really got better.

James got back onto his feet to Mary's side. She turned to him just as he got in close and gave her a kiss, first intended for her cheek, to her lips.

Mary only offered a sigh in response. It was better than being told off for doing something pointless, at any rate.

"I just wish..." Now the anger was gone in her voice. "I used to think about us going to Silent Hill again. Maybe you could have retired there. But we were always too busy."

"I'm sorry Mary."

She didn't dignify it with a response. And as she reached for the pencil sharpener on the desk James turned to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

_Oh God..._

She recognized him easily enough; even from across the street his green army jacket was pretty noticeable._ Is he gonna see me? What's he gonna do?_

For a moment, Angela thought about just taking another brief detour, but the man didn't see her after all. He didn't even seem interested in doing much more than staring at the pavement.

As she crossed the street, James was slowly rounding the corner with no chance of noticing her, but still too slowly to lose her. It had only been a week since she last saw him at this very place, crossing the overpass, but something had changed. James had been a man in a hurry before - now he just didn't seem to care.

And as she got up behind him, the only person anywhere around, he remained oblivious. _Are you okay? What's wrong?_

She stopped for a minute, but long before James could get out of sight her curiosity got the better of her and she raised her voice. "James?"

And before she knew it, he was staring right back at her, apparently getting the same shock she did at seeing a familiar face. "Angela?"

_Oh no...think fast_..."Yeah...I'm surprised to see you...thank you..."

"Yeah. Don't mention it. You heading home?"

She hadn't even finished nodding when he continued "Me too. You need a ride?"

"N-no, I..." But her thoughts weren't catching up with her towards the end of making excuses. She was focused on James, and how he looked like he had just been on the verge of crying. At the very least, he didn't seem all that threatening anymore.

She sighed. "Sure."

As soon as she had caught up with the man Angela finally began to question James. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah...I'm fine."

Then she remembered the rest of their brief conversation. _Should I? It can't hurt to just ask once._ "Is your wife?"

James kept his stride, but her words didn't seem to make him feel any better. "No."

"Oh...I'm sorry I..."

"No, I..." He sighed. "I'm just glad I have someone to talk to. Thanks, Angela."

It didn't take long before James turned from the sidewalk into a parking lot, just past the park. Angela continued to follow him to a old-looking blue two-door.

As James unlocked his car and started getting in, however, she hesitated. She looked over the chassis and the interior again; it certainly wasn't 'big white van' seedy, but not much better. Then she eyed a family of four off in the play area, then a jogger, all in a good position to hear her if she started screaming.

_No._ She made her way back around to the passenger door._ Don't do anything stupid. You're gonna be okay._

Her discomfort, however, still didn't go away; the cold, grimy leather of the seats only reinforced it.

James turned to her, a puzzled look on his face. "Where do you live anyway?"

"Y-you can just drop me off at the gas station on Stockton. It's right by my apartment."

He didn't say anything. He just turned his keys in the ignition.

* * *

><p>She kept silent until they were on the road. It was easy at first, but then she got nervous. Wasn't a little friendliness the least James deserved for helping her out like this?<p>

"James...what's your job?"

It seemed to catch him a little by surprise. "I've just been at the military surplus store on Barracks for the past few years. Finally made me a manager about three years ago."

"Oh...that's nice."

He gave a brief chuckle. "It's actually how I met Mary...my wife. They wanted me to take a business class before they'd promote me. Can't say for sure I learned anything there."

James sighed. "Mary wanted to be a doctor. She was getting some GE done at Baikal College. But it was about a year after we married when we first found out...she was dying."

"What?" She couldn't help herself - even with how miserable he looked it was a bombshell. "You...you never mentioned it."

"I know... it was three years ago - we couldn't believe it. Mary just tried to press on. She thought that they'd find a cure before it was too late. She looked up ways she thought she could slow her disease...maybe even she'd make history by figuring out how to save herself."

As he sighed again, it seemed to take the last hints of energy from his voice. "She went back to hospital this week. They said she's got...maybe two months left."

He turned to her as they stopped at the intersection. "I'm just happy I can talk to someone about it. I talked to my Dad last week, but...after all these years of telling him everything...you know..."

She tried not to think too much about what he said. She just concentrated on his face as she nodded, hoping he wouldn't be too creeped out.

No, he just turned his attention back to the road as the light changed. "It's the one coming up, right?"

"Yeah."

They didn't say anything until James pulled up, by apparent coincidence, by the sidewalk right outside the red brick apartment complex.

"I guess I'm going to see what their visiting hours are." He turned from the gas station to her. "Angela, you...look after yourself."

"Thanks," she said as she opened the door and stepped out. And then stood by to watch James drive off before going into the parking lot.

_Still better to be safe than sorry._

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><p>She saw the brunette coming down the stark concrete corridor of the first floor apartments quickly enough, but it took her what felt like a very long moment to realize what door she was coming out of, and then to realize this woman looked familiar.<p>

And the brunette looked even more startled when she apparently recognized Angela. She put on an embarrassed smile as they passed; Angela gave only a nod in response.

As soon as she entered her apartment she was greeted by Jessica opening the door of her room, looking a little surprised herself. "You're back early..."

"Yeah...your friend saw me too."

Jessica sighed. "We weren't doing anything, okay? I'm not trying to be _that_ much of a bitch to you."

She didn't reply; she just made her way over to the kitchen. She wasn't sure what she would make for dinner, but she wanted to get it cleared up before she started.

By the time she had the gloves on, Jessica was by her at the sink with a dish towel. "What are you doing back so soon?"

"James gave me a ride - I ran into him again."

She looked on in surprise before grabbing the pot that was taking up most of the space in the drainer. "Wow."

"Wha-what do you mean?"

"I dunno...I guess it was really nice of him. And you haven't seen him since last week?"

Angela shook her head as she bean rinsing off the pan she just cleaned. "He said his wife was dying...I guess he just wanted some company."

She saw the tired smile on Jessica's face grow wider, then the snickering break out into full-blown laughter as she put away the pot. "No...Jessie, it wasn't like that!"

"I know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She ended it with a sigh as she turned back to Angela. "But it still sounds funny as hell."

While Angela continued Jessica went back to the TV. "Now for the moment of truth. You wanna watch this if it worked?"

She looked back to Jessica. "Maybe...you know what it was?"

"I think it was the Tower of London was the first episode, then it was the curse of the mummies...then something else..." Then she heard a snippet of a commercial, followed by "nice!"

As she heard the VCR rewind she quickly began setting the plates back into the dishwasher. Probably might as well watch a bit of it with Jessica so she wouldn't think she was mad.

She stood behind the couch first. "You really believe this?"

"I dunno...I heard somewhere they found out that the curse thing was just some bacteria that had been in there a while, but..."

Jessica turned back up to her. "I dunno...there might be something we can't explain yet out there?"

She didn't question it. Instead she simply came around and sat herself down by Jessica. _Whatever...might be worth it._

But as the tape slowed down her roommate turned back to her. "So what do you think you wanna do with James?"

No words came to Angela's mind. And the VCR's stopping didn't give her any relief either; Jessica just sat there, the remote resting in her hand, as she awaited a reply.

"I don't know...I guess he's a good guy. What do you think?"

Her enthusiasm was unfazed; she seemed about ready to start laughing again as she replied "I haven't met the guy! That's why I'm asking you!"

Angela paused, digging a fingernail into her thumb's tip as she raced for an answer. _What do you want to hear Jessie? What's gonna make you stop trying to help me?_

She finally sighed. "He's okay."

Mercifully, Jessica simply replied "huh" before hitting play.

Angela paid no heed to the opening's location and reenactment jump cuts, still thinking about what she had said. _He is okay...and maybe he's not the only one who needs someone to talk too..._


	4. Chapter 4

He didn't know what do say when he saw her. She seemed like a nice-enough girl, but when she wasn't nervous she seemed completely miserable.

Not that James wasn't looking forward to seeing her again, but he thought maybe they'd gotten into some sort of routine. It would be at the end of the week, not the beginning, and Angela would be walking home, not waiting for him at a park bench.

And she didn't look that surprised herself. She didn't even call to him as she got up, picking up from her side...a bouquet of flowers?

Yes, he confirmed seeing the bright petals in the end of the green vinyl cone wrap as Angela made her way to him. James quickly looked around, hoping he could allay his fear of any bored bystanders adding to the awkwardness he felt coming.

"James," she didn't say it loud enough to draw anyone's attention, thank God. "I was hoping I'd find you here."

"Um...okay..." He tried not to look at the flowers; it wasn't a particularly large bouquet, but it still was rather conspicuous. "How long have you been waiting?"

"About...half an hour? I have an earlier shift on Mondays and when I was leaving I thought..." She reached out with the bouquet. "Maybe it'd be nice if I got Mary some flowers..."

James waited only a moment to take in her message, thankful to be able to put aside his first fears, but quickly checking again just to be sure no one he knew might be around to get that impression.

But she seemed to figure it out quickly enough herself, letting her arm fall back to her waist and hanging her head in shame.

"No, it's...you meant well. Thanks, Angela."

It got her to look at him again at any rate, even if it was just with that same sad puppy face._ So maybe she's not crazy...I guess she just wanted to return a favor._

_If it makes you feel better._ "I'll get them home and put them in water. Mary...hopefully it'll make her feel a little better."

Angela nodded, but it didn't look like he had reassured her all that much. James continued. "You been okay?"

She nodded again, but seemed to hesitate before answering further. "I guess...I went to the used bookstore downtown, but mostly I've just hung around at home over the weekend."

"You talk to your family?"

She simply shook her head, and with a noticeable pause.

_Touchy subject?_ "So it's just you and your roommate?"

"Yeah...but we don't do much together I guess..."

He tried to remember if he actually saw her smiling when she came up to him. Her taking the initiative in seeing him again certainly caught him off guard, but perhaps it was better than seeing her like this._ I dunno. I guess it's not like she's stalking me or anything. Maybe I should...well, at least find out what your deal is._

_Be careful._ "Angela, I don't know if you had anything else planned, but...if you wanted you could have dinner at my place."

She hesitated again, looking back at James._ Oh. Maybe you're not that hung up on me._

And when she finally replied, nervously, "okay" there was no satisfaction to be had, just a growing certainty that he had made a mistake.

* * *

><p><em>It's not gonna be too bad...<em>

The only comfort Angela could still take was that she had been in over her head before, and, for the last year at least, things had worked out. The whole drive she didn't say anything besides a few yes or no answers, and now, in James' apartment, she had nothing to do but look out the window at the sunset and the busy street below.

James' words of "make yourself at home" had no effect. As soon as she crossed the carpet to the living room-back half of the central room of James' apartment she panicked a little before making sure, at least twice, she hadn't tracked in any mud. Even after that the room was not just dimmer than the kitchen James was cooking in, but the dusty old wooden cabinet and bookshelf also looked fragile enough to make Angela continue to watch herself. She wasn't even sure about taking a seat on the couch and switching on the TV.

In the end she turned to a few framed photographs on the bookshelf._ Just look and don't touch. James'll find something for you to do eventually._

The first one to catch her eye was that of James with his arm around a woman - she assumed it was Mary. She wasn't sure why she thought it was odd, maybe it was how happy they looked despite the overcast sky.

The fog certainly did make it stand out from the rest at any rate. Going down the row she saw another picture of Mary at a cafe table, but this time there was a nice sunny sky in the background to softly light the picture. Then there was the picture of a tipsy James and another, somewhat older man stumbling around outside a bar, both starkly illuminated in the night by the flash, seemingly having as much fun as Angela presumed the photographer had.

Then the fourth quickly took her interest as well, not so much for James' guilty smirk, but for the street corner he was standing by. It looked a little familiar, even if she remembered a different store front in place of what looked to be the bar from that night.

And just as she began to look away, perhaps to think about her own recollections if it didn't become too unpleasant, she caught James in her peripheral vision, staring curiously at her.

_Don't make it awkward, just say something. Anything. You could even share your thoughts with him if you really wanted._

She turned to face him as well. "James, where was this picture from?"

"Silent Hill...I think?" He paused as he walked over to wash his hands. "Yeah...those aren't from our honeymoon - I think those are from another visit."

She was glancing at the last picture, just a simple portrait of Mary, when she heard him walking over. "You ever been there?"

"I...I lived there once when I was a kid." She pointed to the forth picture. "That place used to be a candy store."

Angela had barely heard James' intrigued "oh" before she felt the first hints of panic. _Now he's gonna ask...is he gonna make me talk about it?_

Fortunately, he just chuckled to himself. "Sorry to ruin your childhood."

"No, no, it's..." She didn't even think about what he said, just relieved at what he didn't. "It's okay...do you need some help?"

He was still, fortunately, fairly cheerful as he replied. "Sure."

She followed him back, then took up the spatula by the stove to stir the grilling chopped chicken as James added a cutting board of minced garlic, then a couple sauces.

And waiting, still with some dread, before he finally asked, "What was it like growing up there?"

"I guess it was okay..." She saw that James was already beginning to grow concerned. "it wasn't like we were poor or anything like that but...I just don't like to talk to my family much."

"You don't seem like you'd be that much of a troublemaker."

She had no idea how to react...was that smile James had meant to reassure her? She just stared blankly at James while getting out of his way as he put a foil-wrapped baguette into the oven.

She had just gotten back to the chicken when he started again. "I know my Dad let me get away with a lot of stuff. I guess he figured the only way I'd learn anything is if I found out on my own."

It wasn't helping...at all. She tried to focus back on her task, but as he kept popping up in his thoughts - not visualizing him but thinking all the same - she decided to take matters into her own hands. "James..." she turned back to him. "What about your mother?"

He sighed. "She died when I was a kid. Looking back I'm surprised it didn't change that."

The chuckle James gave sounded a little forced, but he still probably meant it. "I dunno. We were always still okay."

"Huh. Lucky you."

She didn't fully realize what she blurted out until she saw James' face, obviously taken off guard.

Angela didn't wait to see what specific emotion she had managed to unearth. "I'm sorry James."

"No, it's-"

"No, I..." She hesitated, letting the shock on James' face sink in as she tried to get the words out. "I really am sorry. You...you didn't deserve that."

She backed away as he approached, still with no idea of what James had in his head. Fortunately, as she got out of the way, James simply began stirring the chicken for a bit.

Angela continued to nervously stare at him. Thankfully he still didn't look at all angry, but he still had that same look of total misery on his face she had seen the other day. There was no way he couldn't have seen her, but he just stayed focused on the chicken.

And when he spoke, he couldn't even look her in the face. "Do you want to talk to me about it?"

"It's not your fault. I-I didn't mean to make you feel bad for just having me over!"

James finally turned back to her, saying nothing, then turning down the heat of the stove before pulling out a chair from the table.

And as James reached for a box of tissues on the counter she realized she did indeed have tears coming up in the corners of her eyes. She took the box from his hand before he could set it down, and sat down, the box in her lap.

The tears didn't seem to come back after she brushed them away with her hand. Angela looked back to the man, trying again, in vain, to deduce his feelings without even seeing his face.

_Just please don't be angry._ "I was lucky my friend helped me get away, but I don't really have anyone else to talk to either."

He turned around, but offered nothing but that same sad expression.

_It's up to me, isn't it?_ "James, what were you doing in Silent Hill?"

"I think it was during that trip I was meeting Mary's family."

"Did it go well?"

James only nodded after a second, apparently waiting, with dread, for her to reply.

Instead, she set the tissue box back on the table and got back on her feet. James stepped back as she returned to the stove, handing back the spatula as it was clear she would return to her old task.

* * *

><p>"And that's from Taylor's in Bishop Beach. It's my Dad's favorite place. Pretty sure that was two years...yeah it must have been. That was his birthday."<p>

It didn't get to her anymore; all she had to do was look to her side on the couch. Once James got started recounting all the stories of the last few years during dinner his mood reached a high she had never seen from him. There was something she couldn't explain about seeing James happy, but it seemed to put her as ease as well.

And as he realized Angela didn't have anything else to add, he flipped the page of the album on the coffee table. None of the four pictures of a busy small town street caught her attention; she just waited for James to fill in the story.

"It wasn't the first time Mary went there, but she liked it so much she went back a week later."

"Yeah. Jessie and her friends go there a lot. I don't think I ever have."

James looked off into the window for a moment, sighing. "There were a lot of places Mary wanted to go. I wish..."

When he turned back, it wasn't as bad as she feared. He looked pretty grim, but he seemed to be able to keep it under control now. "I wish we believed it when we got the news. We wasted so much time."

They were both looking down at the album again when James continued. "Angela, would you like it if I took you there some time?"

It brought her head back up quickly enough, looking at the side of the man's face, but her startled mind couldn't find the words to dismiss his suggestion.

_Why shouldn't you trust him?_

"Sure."

And for a second, his mouth cracked a smile again.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Extra thanks to Feriku - I think the longer it takes to write the sloppier I get. Hopefully it'll work now._**

* * *

><p>Angela was just full of surprises.<p>

James had run into her again the day before on his way home from work. They talked a little before he got to his car and they parted ways again; he remembered talking about the man who had been in the store that day and seemed to be trying far too hard to fit in with the ex-army type he assumed James to be. Angela returned a story of a heavy-drinking businessman who, to her later embarrassment, apparently left her terrified. Still, it was all laughs.

Perhaps he also mentioned not having anything to do all of the coming weekend. He didn't distinctly remember it - after Mary's brother called that night he barely gave Angela any thought - but it would certainly explain what brought her here. It wasn't like he had been interrupted in anything important, he didn't even have breakfast on the weekends anymore, but perhaps it would have been nice to get a little notice. He almost even spilled his coffee when the doorbell rang out.

He cracked open his door to take a peek, but after seeing only Angela, carrying a plastic grocery bag, he threw it all the way open. "Hey..."

"James, I..." As much as she seemed to cringe - perhaps seeing James in just his pajamas and bathrobe embarrassed her as much as it did him - she still kept up a smile. "I - I didn't wake you up, did I?"

As soon as he shook his head she continued. "I was thinking maybe I could come over and we could do something." She reached into the bag and pulled out a mostly blue plastic tube that James quickly noted as being prepepared cookie dough. "I could cook this up, and I rented a movie we could watch!"

He had no notions of sending her away, but his mind still took a while to catch up with the change of plans presented to him.

He sighed. "Come on in."

* * *

><p>The only comfort he had to take was that he didn't smell anything burning when he got out of the shower; even after drying himself off and throwing on a t-shirt and jeans he still was hesitant to have a look.<p>

But after he checked himself in the mirror again, not looking for anything in particular, he realized he would never be able to mentally prep himself for this. He didn't quite understand how this seemed to happen; yes, he was nice to Angela, but he had no idea she was actually interested in working her way into his life. The way she talked about 'getting away' from her own family probably, in some way, explained it, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know the details.

Finally, he forced himself to unlock and open the door.

As she told him, she seemed to have remembered enough about the setup of his kitchen to get a head start. As Angela was opening the oven to have a look she didn't seem to notice James go to the table to retrieve his mug.

The last gulp of coffee was cold, and with sugar and creamer it was almost sickeningly sweet and milky. Just about the worst thing to prepare him for Angela turning back to him, looking far more chipper than he thought he had ever seen her. "You been okay?"

Adam hadn't been any help last night; it was probably one the phoniest conversations James had ever had. Both of them tried to put on a brave face, but if Mary's brother couldn't see that the prospect of losing her was making him want to cry he was an idiot. Same if he thought he was able to hide his disdain for the civilian retail loser his sister had wasted her life on.

And James wasn't in the mood to lie anymore. "I'm trying. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Well maybe this'll help." Her voice turned somewhat softer, almost meek. Maybe she realized just how ridiculous this was.

He fell back into his chair with a sigh. "Was this your idea?"

"I was trying to think of stuff we could do, and this was something Jessie did with a friend once."

"So it was her idea?"

"Actually, I didn't ask her about it." No, she was proud of this little scheme of hers. "I just thought maybe I should come over and try to cheer you up."

Maybe he was consciously groaning as he began massaging his right temple. It didn't matter. Angela could probably use a gentle hand leading her back to reality.

And her smile did fade a little. "I'm sorry James. I just don't feel good seeing you so sad after all you've done for me."

He didn't say a word. "You were_ happy_ the last time I was here...when you showed me the pictures. I thought maybe there'd be something I could do."

Was he? He felt better that Angela felt better, yes, but he didn't know if he was actually happy. Then again, the way he was now he couldn't really remember anything as a happy memory.

_If it weren't for you I'd probably be sitting around moping all day. I wouldn't have minded, but now I guess I've got you to worry about._ As she opened the oven again she reached for a potholder as well. James finally got out of his seat, approaching as Angela set the tray down on the stovetop.

He couldn't smell them until he got close, but it was enough to lift his mood a little. He turned to Angela, still happy, perhaps a little proud even, then down to the four rows of chocolate chip cookies. _Almost ten 'o clock - could be worse I guess._

But as he reached for a small, thicker one he saw his fingers dig through the still hot dough, and his hand recoiled as he hit an almost scalding spot.

A dab of molten chocolate was on his fingertip. He gave it a quick blow before licking it off, the numbing of his tongue quickly giving way to its sweetness.

As he turned back to Angela, he saw that she had finally stopped smiling. _I guess I really have nothing better to do than help you out._

She spoke first as he picked up another fragment of cookie. "James...what makes you happy?"

He grumbled a "hmm" before chomping down on the half-formed dough; it would buy him a little time at least. He used to have one obvious answer he could fall back on, but the past few years left him unsure. _And if I throw it out anyway what's Angela's supposed to do with it?_

She hesitantly offered her own suggestion. "Is there a...place you like to go to?"

No. Either she didn't get why those times made him happy or she didn't want to get it.

_Or maybe you just know better than to bring it up._ Then again, perhaps it was a good, common-sense idea from someone trying to help. James quickly began thinking through his favorite places that were only a short drive.

"What about Kirkgate? I think there's a farmer's market this time of year. Maybe I could get some sort of idea for what to do for dinner."

Angela gave a sigh, but getting an answer at least seemed to calm her down again. "Okay."

* * *

><p>If only he had planned this himself. He would've brought his camera, and he would have come early enough to be able to get more than a few fleeting glances at the flock of ducks in the river.<p>

It was a narrow, somewhat uneven road that took him straight from the parking lot to downtown. James had been through here before, but usually only at night when one of his favorite Italian restaurants was open. He had never gotten to see much of the old stone and stucco homes and shops that enjoyed the view of the river and the houses across.

He glanced behind himself. The was something odd about the way Angela trailed, not so much with him, but very closely behind him, and somehow he felt like she was constantly on the verge of stepping on the back of his shoe. She was looking around, but as far as he could tell not at anything in particular, and at no single thing for very long.

The Angela James had come to know was definitely back, even if James wasn't entirely sure he missed her.

He slowed down a little, allowing Angela to unwittingly step over to his side for him to face her. "Have you been here before?"

"N-not in a long time."

James' eyes barely had time to stray back down to the worn asphalt when her voice continued, again, from behind his shoulder. "James, I'm sorry if I was annoying you. I wasn't trying to..." He stopped, letting her return to his side. "I can't imagine what you're going through, and I don't wanna make it worse."

"It's okay." He gave a quick glance behind them, catching sight of an approaching figure but seeing nothing to hint they were making a spectacle of themselves yet. But as the woman quickly turned to see for herself James realized he would have to defuse the situation now. "Angela?"

He waited until he was sure he had her attention again. "Thank you."

No, the tension wouldn't go away, and James was beginning to think the terrified glare of Angela's brown eyes would only be broken by tears.

_Maybe...please don't take this the wrong way._ "If you want you don't have to stay for dinner."

Her head sank a little as she breathed in, but as she sighed out her shoulders finally relaxed. Her soft reply of "okay", and its accompanying quick nod, seemed to confirm James' worries.

But at least Angela didn't seem afraid anymore. She even took the lead into town for a few seconds.

* * *

><p>She didn't seem much better when they got home. Not at first anyway.<p>

It was like the movie in a way; by the time the credits were rolling James could hardly believe events could ever had gotten so far from the beginning. And all seemed to take was one line in a petty disorganized argument to get her chuckling.

He didn't think she would even be into gangster movies - more than likely she just decided a chick flick wouldn't do and made a wild guess - but it seemed almost at once her anxieties finally gave way and she decided to let herself enjoy it.

They weren't saying anything, still withdrawing in the calm after the final shootout. But as James hit the rewind button on the remote Angela promptly got to her feet. James simply waited; in his mind he could clearly see her taking him up on his offer, heading right to the door and leaving without a word.

Instead, the next sound he heard was the fridge door opening. Turning to his kitchen he saw Angela setting a large saucepan on the stove, lighting it, then trying to break open the packaging of the mincemeat she had retrieved the moment before.

James began lifting himself out of the sofa as well, distracting her. "Do you not want to start now?"

She still wanted to be there. Even if she couldn't find it in herself to relax after a movie, she just might be able to trust him after all.

"Let me help you out there."

* * *

><p>"...and before that the last time they talked to me was almost a year ago. They wanted us to go hunting with them. Mary was still sick back then too."<p>

Angela didn't react, but it wasn't worrying James yet. She had only had two tacos, but given the 'breakfast of champions' she brought it wasn't too surprising. And throughout the whole meal, as James spoke, she had hung on his every word.

He continued. "Mary still wanted to go. For some reason she thought it was really important that we all get along...me and her folks."

Finally, she smiled again, if only for a moment. "Yeah..." James waited, letting her build up the confidence to further express herself.

The sigh Angela started with was his first hint it wasn't going to go well. "James, I'm sorry about how I was acting downtown. It's...sometimes I just get really scared."

"About...what?"

"Sometimes..." Her eyes strayed for a moment as she paused. "I get worried someone might do something to me. It doesn't happen often, but...thanks for being there with me."

He had no idea what to make of it. Even though everything he had seen of this woman told him there was something 'off' in her mind her words seemed completely bizarre.

No, this wouldn't be pretty, but perhaps she was trying to tell him she was ready. "Do you want to tell me what happened to you?"

"I...I don't really remember when it started, but..." She began to cringe, shaking her head and sighing. James stayed silent, waiting for her to find the right words.

"My family...my father...all I ever could remember was that he was always angry..."

It was all he had to hear before it all clicked, much to the dismay of James that he could have missed it for so long. What else could she have been talking about when she said she had to 'get away'?

And he just had to make her think about it, whatever her father did to her, again. James quickly spoke up again, "No...I'm sorry I asked."

"I..." It seemed to take her off guard, as if she had finally gotten up the will to talk to him and couldn't even stop herself after James allowed it. And when she continued, it was with an almost unnerving calmness. "I don't like to talk about it. I know I'm messed up."

"No you're not."

It was just a reflex; for everything James had seen from Angela, it didn't sit with him to let her drag herself down like this. Lucky for him, his train of thought was already throwing out a rationalization. "If something happened to you, I understand. It's...it's normal."

Perhaps he succeeded - for the time being at least. Angela could do nothing but just stare, her expression shocked and perhaps just a little puzzled, back at him.

"Angela, you..." He caught himself just before he could say it. "I guess I can't just tell you to learn to relax, but...it'll get better one day."

"You really think so? But..." Her glare dropped to the table for a moment before she spoke up again, a little softer than before. "James, what about you?"

"I guess...it can't go on like this forever."

No. As much as he faithfully believed it, he couldn't sell it to Angela on that alone. She couldn't talk him out of it, but there was no way he could convert her like that.

But perhaps he could find some sort of logic. "I mean, things worked out for you, didn't they? You said you got away from your old problems."

And she nodded. It wasn't much, and it took her a pause to give it, but it was better than nothing.

And then she had to try and apologize again. "I shouldn't have brought that up. I'm sorry James...I wish I was a better person."

"Oh don't say that! Angela, you didn't _have_ to do this. This whole week I've just been miserable, but you...I almost haven't thought about Mary all day!" He paused; she had clearly been taken aback by his words. "I'm...I'm so lucky to have you in my life."

She sniffled, then took a moment to brush a knuckle from her closed right hand by her eyes. Otherwise, Angela seemed to have calmed down. "Thanks...I guess."

"You've...Angela, now that I've got to know you I don't feel right letting you beat yourself up like this. You're a _wonderful_ person, and I hope..."

He paused to briefly reconsider his next words. "One day...you'll figure it out. It's all gonna be okay, and I hope I'll get to be there with you."

She still seemed to cringe before him. Finally, however, Angela reached for that third taco she had barely taken a bite out of. "Thank you."

* * *

><p>"I...I really should leave now. Just in case I forget to return the movie...at least I'm thinking about it now."<p>

James didn't even think about the excuse. She had been looking to leave as soon as she had finished helping him clean up, but after the state she was in at dinner he didn't feel comfortable seeing her off just yet. And as bad as she felt she still wouldn't turn down a little dessert and entertain his attempt to strike another conversation.

But, with her now-empty bowl of ice cream in the kitchen sink, she quickly made her way back to the coffee table to pick up the video. "James, you can keep the rest of the cookies."

"Okay." There was no way he could keep her there any longer._ I guess I've done all I can for you now. Hope you can just hold out for...I don't know.  
><em>

He got back up from the kitchen table. "Hey, Angela, should we meet again Friday? Just to...check up on you?"

With the way her reply seemed so excited, almost downright chipper, James was surprised Angela's face didn't crack a smile. "You really wanna see me again?"

"Of course! I..." No, so wrapped up in misery she still didn't get it. "I don't wanna lose someone else I care about. I know it's hard, but we can look out for each other."

Her glare fell back to the floor for a moment, and when she next looked him in the eye it was gone. The tension she had from the moment knocked on his door was finally spent.

And after she gave her reply of "sure" she started walking again, but again it wasn't for the door; she was slowly making her way towards him.

James didn't think about it, instead simply half-opening his arms and taking the woman in. He was pretty sure he wasn't squeezing Angela too hard, but all the same he felt her slender arms were clinging to him for dear life.

But she didn't put up a fight as he gently inched her body away from his. "It's gonna be alright Angela."

She gave him another nod. "Thank you."

Somehow, he just couldn't turn to let his eyes follow as she went by his shoulder out of sight. He didn't even move until he heard the door open and shut again.

* * *

><p>The idea to go after her first popped into his head as he glanced back to the TV, and realized that it would be a long end to his evening to try and pass it that way.<p>

But as dreadful as the prospect of being alone again seemed, it wasn't enough to get him to leave his apartment. He had seen the mood he had helped get her into; who was he to say he knew better to make her feel comfortable again?

James managed to kill a minute finishing loading the dishwasher and putting a few things away, but it didn't take long before the urge broke through. Quickly he crossed into the living room, pulled up the blinds, and after a quick scan for any people slid open one of the window panes.

He let even more minutes pass as he stared at the world outside, unable to take any comfort in the resolution of his dilemma over the feeling he had wasted a priceless opportunity.

It would be a while before he would get to talk to anyone else.


	6. Chapter 6

_It's not gonna get better. Just like everything else._

Angela knew she couldn't always count on a book to keep her mind occupied, but normally it wasn't this bad. She couldn't fault the author for failing to see that his description of a happy family would only make her reflect on the misery of her own childhood, but it always came up. Even worse were the musings on the strong, masculine father, no doubt to show the sort of man that would be created for kingship, but always making Angela struggle to dredge through the text to something that wouldn't bring up the imagery already in her mind.

And now it brought up a new fear. She had hardly taken it seriously before - she didn't even believe it could be true as they spoke last night - but as she lay in bed, staring at the alarm clock that would come to life in the middle of some old rock song in just under twenty minutes, she couldn't help but wonder what exactly James had wanted from her.

'I hope I'll get to be there with you.' She felt so confused when James said it that night. She didn't want to think it meant _that_, but as she struggled to get some sleep it was the only option she could think of.

_I just wanted a friend, and I believed you when you said it. You couldn't have meant it like that, could you?_

Angela set the book back by the lamp at her bedside. She could remember as soon as she was on the bus back home she was angry beyond words. It was almost unbelievable; James must have never even wanted to help her in the first place, and now it seemed the time was right for him to make his first move.

And at the end of the day, all she wanted was to forget it all and get some sleep. It took her most of Czar Nicholas' handling of the First World War before she was even tired, and then a car alarm cut her rest short.

All the same Angela wanted to usher in the new day on a positive note: if she couldn't get James out of her head she could at least try to remind herself of all the good he had done for her. What were the odds that she would find someone who would help a complete stranger like that? She should count herself lucky!

But she was not lucky. And as much as she would have liked to believe it was all innocent, she had seen enough in life to know better. Everything seemed to make so much more sense in the context of a man striking it lucky with a woman who couldn't fend for herself. And there didn't seem to be any way out. For a moment she was almost happy imagining the confusion James would face when she stood him up, but then followed the realization James quite likely knew where she lived, and wouldn't take well to being fooled.

_You son of a bitch._ She looked back to the alarm again, confirming it was far too late to go back to sleep. _It doesn't even matter what you want, does it? I was trying to help you, and this is what you did to me._

_Oh, I can't do this anymore._ With a sigh and a shake of her head, she reached for some clothes.

* * *

><p>It didn't matter that she had nothing to do all day. If anything it just let her tell herself making a proper breakfast, more or less, was a good way to pass the time.<p>

Not that she was giving much attention to the egg at the moment; Angela was always worried about salmonella poisoning and never fried one for herself without a solid yolk. Instead, with the heat turned down a little, she was taking another drink of soda, trying to decide if she really could taste the "cherry" flavor.

She leaned over the countertops separating the kitchen and lounge areas of the entry room of her apartment, looking into her room to see, even after she had taken the time to take a shower, there were still no hints of sunlight coming through her window. The room wasn't unbearably stuffy, but it still would have been nice to have a window nearby to open to let in a little of the crisp chill she imagined was still outside. It even crossed her mind, despite all the warning signs it let off, to just open the door and let it hang on the chain to get a little from the unsealed hallway.

She thought she might have heard something as she crossed over to the stove, but she couldn't put her finger on exactly what until she turned away at the sound of a door from inside opening.

There was something about the way Jessica was leaning on her bedroom's doorframe, her groggy eyes gazing in her direction, that unsettled Angela. The light blue fake silk bathrobe that looked to be the only thing she was wearing certainly didn't help, neither did the somewhat aroused "mmm" she gave.

She turned back to the egg, trying to focus, with little success, on something other than her roommate. _No...Jessica isn't like that. You know her! You're gonna be okay! _Jessica's soft footsteps approaching only made it worse, forcing Angela to let go of the frying pan and spatula before her trembling hands created a burning mess.

And then Jessica passed right behind her. By the time she heard the fridge door open all her adrenaline was spent, leaving Angela to struggle to make her heavy breathing a little less noticeable.

When she looked back to her right again, she saw her roommate with a flat plastic package of bacon in hand. "You should've waited for me. Let me tell you - when you have an egg fried up in bacon grease, you will never look back."

_See? You can trust her. Jessie's a saint - you're just lucky you know her._ As much as it felt like she should at least offer her thanks, she couldn't quite get up the nerve to do anything but move her egg to an unlit back-burner as Jessica retrieved a larger frying pan. Nor did she put up any sort of fight as, instead of immediately opening the package, Jessica picked up Angela's soda can and took a sip.

She almost started coughing up as she put it down. "I swear, Angela, I've gotta buy you some coffee. Anyway, I'm meeting Will and Charlotte at eleven for lunch...I'm guessing you don't wanna go?"

Angela sighed. "I...I already spent a lot of money. I really shouldn't."

She barely heard Jessica's reply, but it sounded like a satisfied "huh." And her roommate did turn her attention back to the stove, leaving Angela looking at some of the things left on the kitchen table to piece together a little of Jessica's previous day.

And she quickly found herself staring at a small, somewhat worn paperback book. As much as she hated to admit it, with its bleeding text title of 'Cursed America' and boasts of 'shocking stories of true hauntings' over a stark black and white photo of and old mansion, it did seem like the sort of thing she expected Jessica might actually read.

_Enough judging your best friend._ And, as she began setting her long, straight blonde hair into a ponytail, she turned back to Angela.

Angela picked up the book. "Is this...something you're into now Jessie?"

Jessica chuckled. "It's just something I borrowed from the library cause I heard it had a chapter about Silent Hill."

_Really?_ Jessica knew Angela had lived there once, but if she was at all interested in that she kept it to herself. "Oh...were you thinking about going there? I might go with you if you did...I could maybe see if..."

Jessica had much less control over her laughter this time, and when she spoke up her voice seemed a little strained from being out of breath. "You really don't pay attention to the news, do you?"

She promptly flipped a newspaper that had barely gotten any notice from Angela over the past week to its front cover, showing a haggard-looking blonde man, looking completely terrified in a mugshot, billed as 'The Aztec Ripper' with the pictures of his ten suspected victims flanking him. "I heard on the news yesterday he killed himself in jail. It's fucking crazy! And they were talking about him being from some cult round there. I don't know about you, but from what I've seen of what goes on there I'd steer clear of that fucking town."

Angela passed by a few pages to a full spread dedicated to the case, but upon seeing the sub-header of 'Child Killer' it suddenly seemed a little too much to get into at the moment. Instead she turned back to Jessica, now back at the stove, trying to think of something to say.

"Do they know why he did it?"

"It's something about that cult. I wanted to try and figure out more about it myself."

"Oh...did they say how they got him?"

At first, all Angela heard was the sizzling in the frying pan. And then Jessica sighed and turned around. "Okay Angela, what is it you really wanna talk about here?"

To some extent, it came as a relief. She had lost most of a good night's sleep wrestling with the events of the previous day on her own, but all the same she still couldn't quite find the nerve to bring it up.

But Jessica knew her. She had seen the way she would hold in whatever made her miserable, so sure that it would just be a burden to share it with someone else, until she would just break down in tears in a desperate, uncontrollable cry for help. _And after all that, somehow you still wanna help me._

Indeed, as Angela remained silent, she continued. "What about that little date of yours yesterday? How did that go?"

_Thank you._ She didn't question the words, instead pulling out a chair from the table for herself. She would almost certainly need it. "It was...okay at first. I was a little scared, but he was nice to me...and then..."

As she sat down she noticed Jessica wasn't smiling anymore - apparently her hesitation was saying enough. Thank God that she got to this now rather than try to spit it out later. _And thank God Jessica is so patient._

At once, almost without a thought, it all came out. "He was hitting on me Jessie."

Angela closed her eyes for a moment, not expecting that when she opened them again, Jessica would still be staring at her with that very same grim expression.

Or that she would offer, in her all-too familiar deadpan, "So what's...wrong with him?"

_What?_ She had expected some sort of apology just out of pity, but this..._I'm wrong?_

And Jessica's comment of "Oh..." and her sheepish grin were just a little too late to put her at ease again. "Yeah, married, right. Sorry, I'm just being fucking retarded this morning. Are you sure about this, Angela?"

She gave Jessica a nod, but couldn't find it in herself to say anything. Jessica, for her own part, turned back to the stove once she realized nothing else would be forthcoming.

Angela began to lift herself out of the chair just as Jessica glanced back to her again. "Listen, after I'm done with them, I'm gonna come back here, and you and I can just hang out and have fun tonight." A moment later, she added "Don't worry; nobody's gonna be late for work tomorrow."

"Thanks." She made her way over to Jessica's side, watching her flip the rashers frying in the pan until a speck of grease hit her hand.

Angela backed away, but kept staring at Jessica. _What did you want to say?_

"Jessie...do you think I got it wrong?"

Jessica turned to her roommate, but sighed before speaking. "Angela, if he's making you uncomfortable, I'm not gonna tell you to stick with him, okay?"

"But...you know I'm..." She couldn't get the word out - she knew Jessica would shoot her whole train of thought down before she could finish. Instead, she quickly tapped her finger a few times on the side of her head. "I don't know what to think anymore! Maybe I am wrong...I don't wanna lose James if I am!"

"You just said..." Jessica didn't have to say any more; her subsequent groan and massaging of her forehead got the message across.

_ I guess, but I can't believe after everything it would end like this._ It did make sense in her head, but maybe she didn't _want_ to believe it. Maybe she was just lonely - it could happen to anyone - but when she looked back she couldn't even remember being uncomfortable at their first meeting without feeling silly. Besides, would it really make sense for someone who had acted _that_ selfless to her to try to hurt her?

And even if her worst fears were true..."Jessie, why didn't you think it would be a problem?"

Jessica sighed. "Angela...let me say I don't want you to take this the wrong way. I don't wanna pretend I know what's best for you, but..."

In all the time they'd known each other, Angela only remembered Jessica trying to suggest something like this to her once, and once she told her what happened to her Jessica backed off quickly enough.

"Look, I'm really happy being with Liz; I think it might actually work out between us." Well, at least this time Jessica wasn't thinking she was the one for her. "And if you ever found someone who could do that for you, well, I'd be happy for you."

She reached over with the tongs to pick up another bacon piece from the package, getting right in Angela's face in the process. "Besides, who's gonna look after you when I'm gone?"

She didn't have a answer. Maybe Jessica was just joking, but she had a point; when Angela ran away she didn't have anything. Thank God Jessica found her before anyone else. Maybe it was just that she needed a roommate, and her old high school friend would work out fine, but there was no way she would have been able to get a job or a place to live without her help.

As far as she was concerned, Jessica had saved her life.

And, judging by her face, Jessica realized the prospect of being without her terrified her roommate. "Look, whatever, forget about it. You go watch some TV and I'll finish this."

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry James. I just can't bear it being like this. You didn't deserve this any more than I did."<p>

Even though the shock had worn off, James was still speechless. He wanted to tell her that no, she wasn't the one who needed to feel sorry. Not when he was ready to give her her wish and leave her alone again. He knew better, of course, but what else _did_ he have to say?

The decay that seemed to come over Mary's body had three years to creep up on them, but at that moment it all seemed to come back to James at once as he sat by his wife's bedside. Maybe it was the way she almost couldn't even look him in the eye anymore, her eyelids swollen almost to the point of keeping permanently shut. It helped lead him in to see how the disease spread over her entire face, leaving her skin blistered, bruised and almost cracking up.

_Is that what it felt like? All those years of your body just dying away inside?_

He still had no words. Instead, he began to unwrap the bouquet to place it in the vase on her bedside table. That same one that used to hold the flowers he told here were from all the guys at work.

Mary slightly turned her head to see what he was doing; apparently sitting up when trying to drive him away had spent all her energy. "Thank you." It was barely more than a whisper.

The job done, James sat himself down again, waiting for his wife to tell him of the newest agonies that helped drive her to the state she was in.

"I just...all I ever want to do now is sleep. It's the only thing keeping me from going insane when I'm alone here." The form of her left arm began to emerge from under her thin white blanket, revealing a hand and the sleeve of the cheap pajamas they gave her to die in. "And I don't have to deal with_ this_ when I'm asleep."

James hesitated. He wasn't squeamish about the way it almost resembled the hand of an old woman, with thin pale skin giving a clear impression of the bones and veins underneath, but somehow today he had the impression if he touched her he just might break it.

And even when he did hold it between his own hands, he did not expect it would be so cold.

"James...do you think that's what it'll be like when I die? I've never really been completely sure, but God...maybe if you've been good all your life, you just get to rest."

"That...that would be nice, actually."

It got a smile from Mary. It was only for a moment, and with her face it seemed almost sinister, but it was enough to reassure James.

She sighed. "I don't know what they're doing to me anymore anyway. It can't help me now...but maybe one day it'll help someone else."

_But..."It would be easier if they'd just kill me..."_

It wasn't that Mary never got angry like that, but a few weeks ago if she heard anyone using that sort of self-pitying misery she would never have stood for it.

_But things have changed._ James had sensed it. For the past few minutes, he had been wrestling with the understanding he had just reached, but only now did he have the words for it.

_Mary's gone._


	7. Chapter 7

_**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. And, again, let me know if you see anything I could improve on.**_

* * *

><p>4:09. Angela always kept her watch running a little fast - a habit she picked up from an aunt who always liked to stay punctual - but now she was starting to worry.<p>

She hadn't seen him once that week, and around Wednesday she decided the time was right to take matters into her own hands once again. She arranged to trade shifts with a coworker for the day, got off early, and made her way down to the surplus store. Not that she went in; she knew better than to make a fuss at James' work, and she was far too nervous to do anything more than just circle the block again at first.

Come the last half hour before she expected James would be getting off a hint of rainfall had forced her under a bus stop just down the street. She tried to pass a little more time reading, but in the time since she last read that book she had forgotten how short the final chapter was - surprising given its grave nature. Finally, with a little fear she might have ended up inconveniencing the bus when it finally ran by, she put it back in her jacket's inner pocket and got back onto her feet.

And James still didn't emerge. And, upon inspection of her surroundings, she realized she couldn't even see his car.

Somehow, her mind hadn't prepared itself for things actually working out; it did seem pretty stupid to pin her hopes on this much guesswork.

_Maybe I should just go home. What am I even doing here anyway? I could be inside watching some TV with Jessica, or reading something, or...just not thinking about any of this!_

It was hard to imagine forgiving James after what he'd done, but her doubts weren't just on whether or not he'd done it._ Yeah...it can be just like every other night, waiting for something good to happen to me._

She turned back to the corner; hopefully she wasn't going to attract much attention the way she was pacing, but she could always just say she was waiting for someone. It was true, after all.

But when she turned back, he was there, adjusting his jacket and looking up at the dark gray sky. She watched him casually scan the area around him, then do a double take, with his whole slouching frame suddenly straightening itself out, in her direction.

"Hey..." She could barely hear it, no doubt he didn't want to draw any more attention to himself than he had to. And as he approached, he added "Oh yeah, we did say we we're gonna meet up today."

_Too late now._ "I...I didn't remember where you wanted to meet, so I just..." But a nod from James, thankfully, cut her off. "How have you been?"

He shook his head with a sigh. "It's...it's hard seeing someone you love die, you know?"

She hesitated for a second before she nodded. It wasn't like there was anyone she really felt _that_ close to - even her own mother had abandoned her in the end.

_At least you're not thinking that much about me after all._ She could use any comfort she could take; it had been impossible to forget that not only had she told him too much about herself, but she had been on the verge of giving away all her secrets that night.

"Look, Angela maybe we should get to my car. It looks like it could start raining again any second now."

Was there even a way out? She could try to tell James the way she felt, but her mind was as quick to defend him as he could ever be. _And I don't want you to find out anything else about what's going on in my head anyway._

And then she flinched; it only took her a moment to realize a speck of a raindrop had hit her face. _And it's not like you have anything left to lose._

She only gave a nod before heading down the sidewalk again, with James quickly catching up.

"I went to see her last Sunday. She's...she's not doing well. I don't know how long she's gonna last."

"You...you said it was two months. Are they trying something?"

"Yeah, but..." It dragged out as he said it as if to emphasize his uncertainty before, suddenly, he stopped walking, almost causing Angela to lose balance as she halted and turned back to him.

James sighed. "That's not what I mean. Angela, she's miserable in there. She can barely move, the treatments are just hurting her even more...and in the end they're not even going to do anything!"

He started moving forward again, but this time it wasn't at the same brisk pace that Angela had to work to keep up with. "She's all alone there, and she needs me more than ever. I know it would mean the world to her if I would visit more than just once a week...but I can't. I can't stand to see what's happened to her."

"I'm sorry." She didn't give it any thought, but the counter-arguments her mind subsequently tried to create didn't seem that convincing either. _What do you gonna tell him? 'Suck it up and see your wife?' What do you know about any of this? You don't even have anyone you care that much about!_

_Just look at him._ She didn't see anything for sure, but when she turned away her peripheral vision caught his hand brush against his eyes.

He sighed again. "Thanks for...just being here Angela. I don't have anyone left to talk to about any of this." And for a moment, there was a hint of mirth as he continued "I guess now I know how Mary feels."

_You still doubt it now? You knew all along you were being ridiculous. So stop it!_

"It's okay James."

* * *

><p>Perhaps Angela's grand scheme the prior week simply raised his expectations too high. All the same, James felt he wasn't the one who was supposed to be feeling disappointed.<p>

She was sitting right by him on the couch, not looking much happier than she did when they first met up. It wasn't like he could blame her - he could barely stand living the way he did now. What fun could there be sitting around in front of the TV, taking a few bites out of the takeaway pizza reheated from last night, trying to just get by another evening bloating his miserable life?

"I never really thought much about what went into it, I guess." She was trying to feign interest in the documentary he finally stumbled upon in all the crap, but what was there to say about watching coffee mugs being made in a factory?

"Yeah..." But he still had to play along, just to try and keep her at ease as well.

Not that it would do the same for him; after what she told him he found it hard to believe that any of her smiles were sincere. It was with the best of intentions, of course, but knowing now she had run away from an abusive home her usual behavior of fear and misery made a lot more sense. He still was pretty sure he didn't want to know the details, but from what he'd seen her father had certainly had an impact.

And when he looked at the calm in her face, he could do nothing but imagine when the facade would finally crack again.

He would have to intervene. "Were you...did you have anything you were doing tomorrow?"

Oh dear._ That_ face. That puzzled look, not quite as bad as the one that questioned his intrusion of her privacy when they first met, but still not exactly a harmless quizzical either.

_Better take care of this fast._ "I don't want to keep you out too late, but maybe after this is over we can go somewhere."

"Oh...sure. Sure James. I don't really mind."

* * *

><p>He could still remember the first time he found this place.<p>

James had always been a bit of a loner, and long before he left home he had made a habit of just going off on a long walk to pass the time. And even when he had a car, and a job to pay for it, he still would find the time to just go and see what he could find in the city.

It was the same day he went and bought one notebook and nine cheap pens more than he would need for classes. With a full day left before the start of the semester he found himself wandering off past the area around the mall into the suburbs without any care in the world. His finally stumbling upon a strip mall after at least half an hour seemed to be as good a place as any to turn back.

But not before having a look around. He still couldn't say exactly why that little ice cream place crammed in between the liquor and convenience stores caught his eye; maybe the not-so-sterile white linoleum floor and having the same plastic tables inside and outside suggested it would be cheap - and it turned out it was - but he quickly convinced himself he might as well do something special to celebrate starting something new.

He had been there twice by the time he decided to visit with a study partner - and found out that it wasn't quite as much a secret as he thought it was. It wasn't in what James would call a bad neighborhood, but he still couldn't see someone from a conservative family like Mary going here.

And it seemed Angela liked it too. She was as skittish as he'd expected her to be somewhere new, and maybe a little reluctant to accept a treat from him, but she seemed to like the scoop of cookies and cream she had gotten. Maybe listening to him, as she did when he recalled his history with the place, really did put her at ease. Or maybe she was just eating it quickly because she got it in a waffle cone.

It had probably been years since James ever even thought about getting a cone. Maybe next time Angela would get up the courage to try a sundae and he would indulge his inner child.

"I don't think I've ever been around here. I only just came to town last year." She was still somewhat on her guard, her free arm crossed against her chest and her chair not quite scooted into the table - almost as if she was already leaving. And as she spoke she seemed to cringe, which only made her occasional attempt to grin through it all the more awkward. "It's nice. So was this a...special place for you and Mary then?"

James sighed. "When Mary was here. _That_ made it special."

"I see." She replied meekly before taking a slightly-louder bite into the remnants of the scoop that had fallen into the cone.

Of course - she knew better than to keep trying to push this conversation. Wasn't that the whole reason they did this? So he wouldn't be thinking about the death of the love of his life?

But what about her? How was he to return the favor? What sort of escape did he offer from _her_ miserable life?

"Stuff around here...you're not much of a mall person, are you Angela?"

She began to shake her head, but abruptly stopped. "Do they have a bookstore?"

"I think..." A glance over the girl's shoulder made him think twice - even if the room wasn't so overwhelmingly white it couldn't have been too far from pitch black outside. "No, it's probably closed by now."

_Actually, that's a thought. Didn't you mention something like this before?_ "What do you like to read about anyway?"

"Mostly just history." As she spoke she reached into a pocket on the inside of her jacket, pulling out a small paperback that she placed in front of James.

Angela didn't say anything as he looked over that painting of some old noble-looking couple on the cover. Almost on instinct he began flipping backwards through the pages - he wasn't ready to get into it, whatever it was, at this time of night - slowing down just a little as he hit the pictures in the middle.

Until one full-page photo on the left caught his eye. Even he could recognize the figure of Grigory Rasputin, and he even had a vague idea of what he did too.

His eyes strayed again to see a faint smile on Angela's face. Maybe this was what she had hoped for, and she had finally found an interest for them to have as another common ground.

_And you might even be right._ He scanned the rest of the old black and white photos, taking note how many seemed to be of the old Russian royal family at play._ So...what? Is this a thing for her? Did she want to be a princess when she was a kid? Is that what got you into this?  
><em>

James looked back up to Angela, who was almost coyly keeping that glare that could stop him in his tracks away from him. _You really do have the eyes, don't you? Almost as good as the Mad Monk himself._

He handed the book back to her. "Pretty heavy stuff, huh?"

"I guess I don't read a lot of happy stories." She took another bite, taking care to finish swallowing it before continuing, "The last book I read...you know about Sid Vicious?"

Actually, he only knew one of their songs, and he wouldn't even be able to tell her what he even did in the Sex Pistols. Still, the idea of Angela as a punk mosher...if he could possibly form a mental image of that, he would probably die laughing on the spot.

"Uh...yeah. Didn't he kill his girlfriend or something?"

"Probably, yeah."

The bell on the door barely attracted a look from James when it suddenly rang out, but his focus quickly shifted from the woman entering back to Angela. Almost a split-second after the noise went out she had turned to see who it was, and she hadn't quite finished turning back to get a glance at the woman's friend who followed her.

And while she was giving what looked to be a subdued sigh of relief, he couldn't help but wonder exactly what impressions the new arrivals would take now that she had accidentally gotten their attention. Almost on instinct, he got his elbows off the table and leaned back in his chair a bit; Angela probably wouldn't mind.

"So...that's that sort of music you like? I never would've guessed."

"Well, if it's on the radio, sure...I guess. I dunno, I saw something about it on TV a while ago."

He scraped up another spoonful around the edges of his own styrofoam cup. Maybe things really would go okay today; James felt almost proud of having not made that poor girl freak out for the first time since they met. Angela herself looked to be pretty close to done - just putting off the last bites to avoid finishing before him and having nothing to do, no doubt.

_But why waste your time?_ "Hey, Angela, I don't have to finish this here, if you don't wanna stick around."

"Was there...somewhere else you wanted to go?"

* * *

><p>For once, it didn't bother her that she seemed to have been proven wrong.<p>

Angela knew how it usually went - the numbness that followed the realization that the danger she imagined never existed - but she almost never seemed to feel happy from it.

Her fears had gotten their last chance as she and James made their way through the park. And they made a compelling case: the lights barely offered enough light to navigate the grounds, and if anything were to happen to her, there wasn't even a homeless man or some teenager around to see it.

But she could only listen to those doubts for so long, and the longer they went along the path the more absurd they seemed. By the time James suddenly stopped to have a rest on a bench, she didn't have to force herself to look for any despairing fatigue to justify sticking with him.

"I'm just a little tired. It's been a long day."

And after a moment, she replied "you're right." She had put herself through far too much worry today, and now would be as good a time as any to begin a little rest for her weekend. She brushed her hand over the remaining space on the bench, smearing droplets of water into the wood, and sat herself down beside him.

James looked to be a little disappointed. "Maybe we should come here earlier. At least there might be a squirrel to watch or something."

"Yeah...all alone in the dark. It's almost like a horror movie."

He sighed. "Thought there would be something - I don't think I've been here in months. Mary...what she's got, she didn't have the energy to go anywhere. The last few months she was cooped up at home all the time."

James looked out into the darkness. "You know, I never thought about it, but maybe it wasn't just the disease. Maybe being stuck at home was part of the reason why...she was so..."

But just as her curiosity was piqued, "No, you don't need to hear about that."

_What?_ James had already told her Mary was unhappy. Did she try to do something to herself?

_Or...did she do something to you?_ Her mind went back to memories of herself with her mother. It should have been a happy memory - most of the people she knew would say they grew out of having any problems with their parents - but all she could remember was the fear. Today she could easily explain it away; her mother had been hurt just like she was, and she couldn't help but want to lash out.

Perhaps, she thought, she was projecting too much of herself onto James. But then again, it would be a better fit to explain why he would want someone else's company.

"I'm sorry James."

"It's okay." No, that poor man didn't need to be thinking about that - not after all he did for her.

Her mind started working faster than it could keep track. "Out here it reminds me...I never told you about this. One time I watched an old Japanese ghost movie with some friends. It scared me so much...I was sixteen, and I was still so scared I couldn't sleep well for months!"

He looked a little confused. Maybe she should have been as well; she had only ever gotten up the nerve to tell this twice, but somehow it just seemed so much easier today.

"I was so worried my parents would find out, at my age, when the lights went out I was crying myself to sleep." In fact, she laughed through her next comment, "It was so embarrassing! I told you I was messed up when I was a kid!"

"Angela..."

"It's okay James!" She paused, regaining a little of her composure from that fit of giddiness. "You were right. It did get better."

He made another scan of the park before he spoke up again. "It's pretty late. Maybe I should get you home some time soon."

She didn't even think about whether or not she had scared him. It was that final reassurance that her fears were unfounded that got her attention. "Okay."

And this time, as she sprung up from the bench again, she found herself being the one offering James a hand back onto his feet.


	8. Chapter 8

**_It's a short one, and really could have fit at the end of chapter 7, but I added a few fixes to previous chapters (nothing big - not really worth looking for if you've followed this so far.)_**

* * *

><p>"Are you gonna be okay, James?"<p>

Somehow, the question took him by surprise. Maybe it was just that she beat him to it.

He turned to Angela, beside him in the passenger seat of his car. As far as he could remember, she hadn't had anything to say the entire drive. He had almost forgotten her...for some odd reason the only word that seemed to fit what he saw in the park was 'outburst.'

It was almost as if she had waited until the very moment he had stopped outside the gas station before speaking.

"Yeah...sure."

"Do you have a pen? If you want I can give you my phone number...just if you need to talk to someone."

Her face was completely serious; somehow, it seemed, she had convinced herself she was the one who was supposed to be offering help. _Does it make you feel better? I guess...well, if I was in your shoes I would feel better being in control...or something._

There really was no way he would turn it down, but he was going to add something else. He found himself a little uneasy with the idea, but only a little; besides, he couldn't even really explain why. The idea that he was putting himself in some sort of danger seemed so empty he was almost ashamed it came to mind.

Especially at how she backed away into her seat when James reached into the glove compartment for the pen and sticky notes he kept in there. Pretty much anything, it seemed, could scare that poor girl.

He quickly began writing. "Here, you should have my number too. Really should've gotten it down for you a while ago."

The job done, he handed the pad and pen back to the girl. As she peeled away the top note he continued, "You can...just any time you need to call me."

"Thank you."

Once she was finished, she set pen and paper back onto the dashboard and turned to him again. "James...I just wanted to tell you how happy I am being..."

She almost chuckled as she tried to find the right word. "I never really had that many friends. Just being able to talk to you means so much to me."

Those eyes had him on the spot again, but at least this time they led his vision to that weak smile that was starting to break out on her face. No, this time it wasn't a mask; she just couldn't hide how she felt anymore.

In all the time he'd known Angela, it was the first time James felt the word 'sweet' described her.

"It's okay. You've...been here for me when I needed it too." Yes, she wasn't able to do much, but God only knew where he would be without her now. And she still wanted to do more.

_And if I can make it better for you too, I will._ That face, gazing with so much adoration for him, it was...beautiful.

It had never struck him like that before. Whenever he tried to look past her unkempt hair all he saw was the terrified glare of the woman who had literally been made sick by the world she saw. He had never really been on the lookout for any joy from her, but here it was. And it was amazing.

If only he could have a few more moments with her that evening.

"Mary's so lucky to have you James." She hit the seat belt's buckle and set her hand on the door handle. "Take care."

No, it was over. "You too."

But he couldn't turn away as she stepped out into the parking lot to his right; he ended up watching until she disappeared into the apartment building. It was strange; he never thought about how she was always a little hunched over until now, when she wasn't. It wasn't so much walking with pride...or really with anything.

No, that was it. Carefree, for the first time he could remember.

He waited a moment before he was satisfied with the conclusion he would not see her again, but even as he turned the keys in the ignition he couldn't shake the fresh mental image of Angela sitting beside him: her hands resting almost modestly in her lap, her head shrinking into her shoulders - that timidity would probably never change - but still smiling at the man who had showed her so much kindness.

So much love, one could say.

If only he could forget her last words to him.


	9. Chapter 9

_**So, my first draft of the first scene went out when I saw Ziggbot basically wrote it twice as well as I ever could. Like, even more so than it is now. Shout out for The Pain of Two Hearts in case I forget it later.**_

_**And while I'm at it, Saint Sentiment's Three Women and Morbid Cheshire's Angel Ardiente. Saint does crazy people better than I do, and Angel Ardiente's a fucked up Angela oldie that could use some more love.**_

* * *

><p>"I almost forgot the Fourth of July in Portland...glad you figured out how to get the flash off on that thing...you remember that don't you?"<p>

"James..."

He tried to do the right thing anyway. All he wanted was to make Mary's day special, but it seemed his efforts were too little, too late.

Lying in her hospital bed, she had barely found the energy to pull herself up from its elevated head to look at that photo album James had opened in her lap. And he had only been able to flip through three pages before, with a sigh, she let herself fall back down again.

As Mary turned to him, he tried to reassure himself that maybe the bitterness on her face wasn't all directed at him. Or perhaps it was all just the disease, sucking the life out of her body, that ruined his efforts.

"I'm sorry James...I'm just so tired."

Yes, he had meant well. Besides, what sort of husband would he be if he had tried to get out of visiting his dying wife when she was asleep?

No...Mary meant more than just a few cheap flowers to him. He thought hard over the few options he had left to try and bring some joy back into her life, and this seemed almost perfect. Everything he knew about photography he learned from her, and she always had her camera ready for anything she wanted to remember. The hospital's staff gave him a few odd looks as he carried in two stacks of photo albums, but they didn't object.

But when she called his name as he set down the second stack, he couldn't help but feel a little uneasy.

But why? The idea of just sneaking off wasn't on his mind at all...at least, he didn't remember it.

It didn't matter anyway. All there was left for him to do was remove that last burden he himself had placed on her body.

James picked up the album. "They're all just in the corner. Maybe you could have one of the nurses help you with them."

"You...how many did you..."

"All of them. I know how bored you get here - maybe you'd want to look through them sometime."

She seemed to give out a sigh, only for it to be swallowed up with a cough and leave her words with a raspy mangling. "I don't...James, I don't want to think about any of that!"

She turned her head back to the ceiling and shut her eyes. All the same, James leaned in a little closer; if he knew Mary, she was not done.

And then came the whisper. "I don't want to remember_ her_...when I was healthy...and beautiful..."

She paused. When she spoke again, even as James seemed to realize what she was about to say, it wasn't quite as biting as he expected - almost fatalistic actually.

"But you do, don't you?"

* * *

><p>He literally didn't do anything when he got home.<p>

It was ironic - he had started out determined to make something more of the day, but he stumbled at the bookshelf. He'd read most of its contents at least once, and that only motivated him to sets his sights even higher by pulling out Mary's old nutrition textbook. Yes, tonight he would take a step in improving his life.

It was still lying beside him on the bed; somehow he just wasn't in the mood to crack it open. And, looking at his alarm clock, it had been that way for a little over half an hour.

At first he had been thinking about what, exactly, he had hoped to accomplish. It made for an interesting mental image; himself as some sort of fitness nut blending vegetables to drink, running every day and bragging to his coworkers he probably had ten years of life over them.

Even outside his daydreams, they were probably still too polite to ask the question he himself was already pondering: for what?

_But maybe Tom would - he wouldn't bullshit me._ James had lost track of most of the people he knew in school, but one Tom Ryan was still in town. He always sent a letter at Christmas and would invite James over to watch football whenever he needed to have a 'Man's night', as he put it - just whenever he needed a break from living the dream with a house, his high school sweetheart wife of nine years, and their three kids.

And in his mind he could see Angela sitting beside him on the sofa, startled every time Tom shouted at the teams, until he put his arm over her shoulders and held her hand.

Maybe a strange thought, but it would be of no use to try and get her out of his head; that girl was probably the highlight of his life at this point.

At the very least, it helped him remember that things could always be worse. As it was, she was pretty much in the same boat as him, but for all the misery her old home life gave her she deserved better. How was she getting by anyway? There was always the image of her sitting in her room alone as her roommate's friends were all having a party, wearing a pair of thick-frame reading glasses and diving into some story about a long-dead European queen - if not going for the full archetype and adding some wizards and dragons into the book.

But the reality probably wasn't nearly as fun.

_God...I almost forgot about half of your stuff. I hate to say it but, well, you really are a mess._

And with his first burst of resolve, he finally dragged his back up from the mattress, almost a little dazed at being upright again. _But I'm glad I can help. At least I'm helping somebody._

* * *

><p>Better to get it done now. James could remember the last time he was too lazy to make himself dinner it carried over into the morning; he had no motivation to prepare anything near the double-breakfast he had planned, and finally he broke down and gorged on fast food for lunch.<p>

_Let's save your money for when you really need it._ But again, it could've been worse. Mary's family, somehow, was able to take the brunt of her medical bills. Maybe if they had more time, she would've let him in on what their deal was.

_I wonder if you hate them for keeping you alive. That'd be something I could talk to Adam about._

He really wasn't in the mood to try much. So far, his plans were just to put some peanut butter on the toast he had coming, nibble on that throughout the evening, and just go from there. More than likely he wouldn't even finish the second slice, it would sit on the counter overnight, and he would still eat it the next morning anyway.

As he leaned against the stove his eyes scanned over the apartment, with nothing really catching his attention. The living room did seem a little emptier with nothing in that bookshelf under the window, and the carpet's imprint of the couch's legs from before he moved it closer to the TV reminded him he needed to vacuum one of these days.

Then he saw the light on his answering machine was on for the first time since Mary first went into hospital. _Sure. That'll kill some time._ James made about two steps before hitting play and settling himself back against the counter.

And he felt a jolt in his neck and shoulders as he recognized the voice of the woman on the line. It must've been the initial lack of a stammer that threw him; without it she could pass as any middle-aged tenant or neighbor calling out to greet him in passing.

_"Hi James. I just got home and-"_

Almost on reflex, he turned back around and hit pause. He hadn't given it much time, but he was 99% sure it was Angela._ And you knew this was what you were getting yourself into when you gave her your number._

Once he was sure he could give it his full attention, he hit play again. _"-just thinking about you. I remembered you said you were going to visit Mary today and...I guess that's what you're doing right now."_

Yeah, it was her. She had managed one whole day without him.

_"I just...wanted to say thanks for everything you've done for me. You've been such a good friend to me, you...you have no idea. I don't think anyone has ever made me so happy. I-I'm sorry to call you up like this - we should meet up again sometime soon."_

Thank God Mary wasn't around to hear this. It wasn't like she wouldn't be skeptical about this situation even before her illness wore her down.

_"I...I just hope you're okay, James. Bye."_ And then the sound of the receiver being replaced.

She had told him before that she didn't have much else going on for her, but this...poor Angela. It wasn't even like there was an obsession vibe from the girl - he really must have been all she had.

And then he caught himself turning around to the answering machine. What was he about to do - hit the rewind button?

_At least Angela isn't too proud to admit she needs help._

He instead opened a pantry cupboard, not even so much looking for the peanut butter as much as just wondering what the hell he would do with all the other stuff he had somehow managed to get in there. He heard the toaster finish, but it barely got his attention; even it was done it probably would be easier to let it cool for a couple minutes.

Then he heard the soft tapping on his door. Maybe it was its faintness that spurred him to action - the fear that he could have missed it creating an even greater sense of urgency the second, louder knocks that followed it.

He wasn't really thinking about who would actually be interested in paying him a visit; maybe if he was he wouldn't have been so surprised to see her, arms crossed and looking, half focused, down the hallway. And at the sound of his door opening she seemed to spring back to life, her formerly half-awake eyes once again staring into him.

"Hi James...am I interrupting anything?"

With a sigh, he let the door swing open and stepped out of the girl's way.

* * *

><p>There was no reason, it seemed. Ostensibly, it was because she was worried about him - she didn't go into detail, she was just worried.<p>

And Angela immediately jumped in to do her magic, taking some inspiration after seeing James' own meal plan. He'd mostly still been buying eggs out of habit, and the syrup and powdered sugar had been around...well, they probably never really went off anyway. James let her fry up his two half-done slices first, and the result was just palatable enough to get him to grill up some more himself.

Somehow he hadn't quite expected her to be able to finish three whole slices of french toast. It didn't even take her that long, and now here he was trying to entertain her while he finished.

"...I started flipping through the pictures, trying to figure out which ones to bring. I ended up bringing all of them when I went down there." Of course, she had nothing she wanted to bring up, so he had to try talking about his day. "I didn't stay very long."

"W-what did Mary think?"

Of all the times for Angela to have something to say...he paused, trying to figure out how much he was willing to admit.

"She thought it was nice."

And, thankfully, she let it pass with a nod. "I wish I had someone who would look after me like that. She really is lucky to have you."

He could remember the last time she told him that.

And he had tried not to think about that sort of thing. Even when he and Mary were together he could still recognize beauty, but never would anything make him want to abandon her. Wasn't his mind still abiding by this?

He folded over the last hunk of sticky bread on his fork, asking, before taking a bite. "So you didn't do much yourself today?"

She was shaking her head as she began "I just stayed at home," only to perk up a little with the apparent realization she had something. "I looked through an old cookbook. I was thinking about how the last time I came here we made tacos...when I was a kid, when I visited my grandparents, they always made them a special way."

His mouth full, James gave a curious "hmm".

"They were born in Mexico...my full name's Angela Orosco." And she had that coy smile, a little hint of mirth that came with being able to tell her story. Just maybe he had finally hit upon a happy memory of hers.

But it faded just as quickly. "I haven't seen them in years - not since my Grandpa died and my Grandma moved in with my Aunt. I hope she's still okay."

Even after he finished swallowing, he gave her a few more seconds to let out anything she felt comfortable with before continuing "So, you wanna give that a try sometime?"

"Sure, sure."

Maybe he hadn't hit that sore spot himself, but the result seemed to be the same as she looked down to her empty plate. James briefly considered reaching over the table to put it in the sink, but it seemed just a little too intrusive.

Perhaps a different sort of distraction could work. "You read anything recently?"

"No I...I watched some TV. It was just stupid stuff."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." He had almost laughed, but managed to catch it before it was more than a little chuckle accenting his words. Who knew if Angela would even recognize he wasn't laughing at _her_?

But when she peeked up, she had a hint of a smile on her face. "I'll look at the recipe again and talk to you tomorrow about it."

He had trouble putting his finger on exactly what about this woman caught his eye in the first place. There was always the way those thick sweaters she wore hugged her bosom, but that seemed too simple an explanation. Perhaps it was how she still seemed to shy away, a little hunched over, and in no way relaxed.

He couldn't help but pity her, and making her smile put a little brightness in his day too.

"Yeah, after I get off work I've got nothing better to do."

She gave a nod before scooting out her chair a little, creating just enough room for her to get herself back up. And after she picked up both their now empty plates James continued to watch her as she made her way to his kitchen sink. It wasn't like he was actually thinking about doing anything with her, but all the same she was something so heavy on his mind he couldn't look away.

And she looked a little surprised as she reached for a hand towel and noticed James' spying.

_And if I did, and you found out, you might not find yourself worrying about me so much._

_Just say something, you creep._ "Thanks."

It seemed to calm her down a little, fortunately. "I think I remember my grandfather telling me about the Mexican Civil War, but I don't remember much about it." Her hands dry, she set the towel back and returned her attention to him. "You don't know anything about it, do you?"

Apparently Mexico had a civil war once - it was news to James. He shook his head. "I think...once I went there. It was a long time ago - my Mom was still alive."

"What...what was it like?" James' kitchen was small, but it still baffled him that Angela could cross to the table and retake her seat so quickly.

But there she was, waiting eagerly for any recollections he could drag up, so happy just to have him in her life. Just like him.

_And that's how it is - it's not like that...but if it was, people would understand why._


	10. Chapter 10

**_For the record, Chapter nine was posted on February 20, 2013. This document was uploaded for finishing touches at 1:45am July 22, 2015. I have no excuses. (Especially since I then noticed two really dumb, obvious typos, now fixed.)  
><em>**

**_The story (not the writing, the story itself) is moving slower than I had hoped. And I had to include a gratuitous cameo to get back into a flow. The original version of this chapter was much different - you can ask Feriku, if she's still active. I hope you like this anyway._**

**_Also, when I did my research for this I decided to deliberately ignore something off the SH wiki. Can you spot it?_**

* * *

><p><em>It'll be fine. The only way it could go wrong is if you <em>want_ it to go wrong. If you see anyone, don't ask any stupid questions. Don't ask about Walter; if they want to talk about him just let them say their piece. Don't talk back to them. Just keep your mouth shut; you're good at that._

_And remember - this is a million times better than the alternative._

Things had been good that week; even better than Angela had realized, it seemed. At work even her boss, who would only grudgingly admit that this strange woman at least could get her job done, mentioned off-hand she seemed a lot happier than usual. Thinking back, she hadn't had this much going on with her life since Jessica first set her up in Ashfield and she had to prove herself.

Not to say she wasn't still a little anxious; it was almost a full week between her last impromptu dinner with James and the new one they set up. But she could be patient. She did still call him a couple times that week to check up, but he didn't seem to mind. And to top it all off Liz didn't flunk any of her classes that semester after all, so there was one less thing to piss Jessica off too.

And then that Friday she called up James to talk about their dinner the following night. He had the carne asada marinating, but he was going to wait until tomorrow to get everything else, and he figured he should take her along when he went to the farmer's market in Kirkgate. Did she want to meet up at his apartment?

Kirkgate. She didn't want to go into the details - maybe another day she'd be ready to share the full story with James - but she got the message across to James that she wouldn't be comfortable going there again. And James was understanding, as usual, but he didn't really have a better idea. He had some business to take care of earlier that day with Mary's brother, and he knew another store he'd be close to, but he wasn't so sure Angela would want to tag along.

James didn't flat out refuse to let her tag along - maybe he just hoped the ground rules he laid out might scare her off. He had heard everything there was to say about 4S, and he wasn't sure exactly what Angela had heard, but he knew there was at least a little truth to the good work they claimed to do. The important thing, however, was that Mary's family was involved with them, so the last thing he wanted was for her to pester everyone with awkward questions about "The Order." Angela agreed; she liked to think that maybe things weren't as bad as people made them out to be, and maybe she didn't see the full picture, but maybe James could help her learn more.

Then, as an afterthought, James suggested that they probably shouldn't come to the 4S building together. He didn't want to leave anyone under the wrong impression. They could just meet up later, outside. Again, Angela thought it sounded like a good idea and planned to arrive near the end of James' meeting.

And so here she was, having followed James' directions and arrived at the 4S office that wasn't. That was the first thing that worried her; that tall angular ceiling made the building look a bit like a church, but she wasn't quite sure. Then she went into the building, following the signs in the lobby that read "atrium/museum" into what clearly was once some sort of old stone worship hall. The back half of the hall had been partitioned off, apparently for that CPR class that the noticeboard in the lobby said was going on today, but they left a narrow pathway to the side which one small sign noted lead to the "chapel." Apparently they felt they needed a separate chapel in their repurposed church, and they didn't seem to be going out of their way to invite visitors to have a look.

_Well, I guess if there's a church that, somehow, isn't being used anymore, it would be a waste to tear it down. Still...who are these people?_

She turned back to the doors she came in by, flanked by the display cases she had looked over when she first walked in, and with some paintings, sketches and blown up photographs on the walls._ It's worth a look, I guess. They wouldn't call it a museum for nothing, would they?_

There was a slightly older couple checking out the exhibits to Angela's left - no one she recognized, but she still decided to start on her right and give them all the space they could want. She started with the pictures; the closest one was one of the old Toluca Prison she recognized at twenty feet away from an old history book. Once she got in close she moved on to the sketch that preceded it, which was apparently one of the older Toluca prison camp of the War of 1812, then to the map of the old colonial town.

Then she hit the painting. Well, it looked like a printed reproduction of a real painting, a little less grand then they might have been going for, but still fairly impressive. It looked like some sort of medieval or renaissance painting of a saint...but she didn't know of a Saint Jennifer.

"Now, this esteemed young woman..."

The words came seemingly from out of nowhere, and with that slight echo the church gave it took Angela a second to realize the man who spoke them was talking to her.

She spun around. Well, from a distance that man, with his dull brown vest and slacks ensemble, looked older than he really was. The stubble and his unkempt hair - if she thought she had any authority on the matter Angela might call it unfashionable - also helped. But there wasn't a trace of gruffness in his voice.

That was good. One less thing to remind her of_ him_. It was bad enough a man was hassling her out of the blue like this.

Then, after he casually adjusted his glasses, he turned his gaze to the portrait. No, Angela reassured herself, he wasn't rambling on about _her_. He took a step towards her, then asked, a little more discreetly than before "Do you know how she died?"

Angela shook her head. That wasn't even close to anything she had been thinking about.

"No, I didn't think you would. It's_ close _to the stories you've heard in your history classes...but this one has a little twist."

The man held out a hand for Angela to take. She didn't.

But it didn't phase him that much as he continued. "When Jennifer Carroll's grandparents left England for the new world, they said it was for the freedom to worship God as they believed. Sounds very noble, doesn't it? But they weren't interested in freedom for everyone...just for themselves...as _they _believed."

He began slowly making his way down the display cases; Angela wasn't too quick to close the distance, just taking a few steps when needed to hear his tale. "And our cherished Pilgrims...when they came to this new land, they and the locals didn't see eye to eye. I suppose you already knew that, but the natives of _this_ area were something else entirely. Now, far be it from me to judge, but I understand how these cultures could clash so violently..."

The man glanced down at one of the cases, noting, almost under his breath, "What can seem so normal, some of us can see as an abomination."

She walked over to take a look herself. The contents didn't look too special at first; a corroded green copper...arrowhead? No, it was too big. Then she saw the picture set beside it: a man splayed over an altar as another man stabbed him in the chest.

"We don't know what exactly happened to the natives in this story, but perhaps that says all we need to know. That sort of thing wasn't going to make them a lot of friends anywhere. But they didn't disappear entirely. Some of their_ other _ideas took root among the settlers. It's the story of America, isn't it? The old and new worlds colliding to create something brilliant!"

He paused. "Or...maybe it had more to do with that town. When they landed, they knew there was something special about it. They said God had led them there...but they didn't know the half of it!"

"But the leaders of this town...they didn't agree." The man furled his brow, but that grin of his stayed. "They forced the new believers underground, forced them to deny what they had learned, but they knew that wasn't going to be enough to save them. They needed to make an example! And when Jennifer, a woman, challenged them..."

Now he got in close, almost pinning her against the display. "They took her into town, told her that she would hang for witchcraft! But _maybe_, if she would tell them who else didn't believe as they did, they_ might _be merciful. And when she refused, they tied her to stakes in the ground, laid a wooden door over her body..."

But as he inched in even more, it finally became unbearable. Maybe Angela could cope with this man at a distance; let him stare into her soul for a sign of weakness to his heart's content, and gleefully recall as many horrible deaths as he could remember. But now, with his face nearly pressing against hers, and his hands...

In a moment, she found herself shoving weakly into his chest, just enough to put him at arms' length again. She slowly stepped away, looking first at the man, startled and finally at a loss for words, then to the woman who was now standing to her right. There was no mistaking her - her old-fashioned red dress had been just as recognizable across the hall - and she looked quite shocked at the way she had treated her friend.

"What are you doing? Father Vincent, are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I just..." He sighed and turned back to Angela, the energy in his voice finally spent, "I just get a little carried away sometimes. It happens to all of us, doesn't it?" Then without skipping a beat he turned back to the other woman in his audience. "We'll be fine. Tell Claudia not to wait up for me...I'm sure she'll understand the importance of a little...outreach."

The woman left without a word, but with a somewhat dissatisfied groan under her breath.

'Vincent' waited until she was out of earshot before he continued. "I guess what I'm getting as is...it's just so nice that, for the most part, we can all get along now, isn't it?"

_It's gonna be okay. Just...think of him as the tour guide. That's what he's comfortable with. And as for what you just did...that's not going to put him down._

"What's your name? And what brings you here today?" He asked.

"My name's Angela, and..." for a moment, she considered the first answer that came to mind, and decided it was close enough to the truth. "I don't really know why I'm here."

"The name's Vincent. Don't forget it, okay?" Yes, she remembered. Still, if his stylish introduction was that important to him, she'd let it pass.

"You're from that church in Silent Hill, aren't you? I used to live there when I was a kid...but I didn't know much about it."

"I suppose your parents didn't approve of us, huh?"

"It...never came up." Yes, time to change the subject. "But I didn't know anyone who knew much about you."

"And you came here to learn, right?" Vincent clasped his hands. "Ah, a woman after my own heart!"

And then he slowly folded his arms. "Or just telling me exactly what I want to hear, waiting for me to do the same for whoever sent you."

And so she was left with him and his grimly satisfied smirk staring her down. What could she say to allay his suspicions? What was the point of even trying? What sort of revelation could she even expect anyway?

But just as she took a step away..."It's okay Angela. I know exactly who I should be on the lookout for...if the media even cares about us anymore. And you don't seem to be the type with the patience for those sorts of games."

She had a glance at her watch. 3:48 - just enough time for the Cliff Notes version of this somewhat-harmless "Father's" sermon, hopefully. It wasn't like she had anything else to do.

"There's not much to say really, if you're just passing through. I'd like to think we're just like everyone else: we believe in a God that created us. She-" Vincent paused, suppressing a chortle. "Yes, you heard me right, 'she' - watches over us, and one day, eventually, she will come back. In the meantime, we're just trying to get the word out, and maybe, if we can, make the world a better place for her when she gets back."

She crossed her arms. She'd play along...but only a little. "God's a woman? Okay...I guess that makes me feel a little special. But, how do you know?"

Another chortle from Vincent. "Oh, the things I've seen...you know there's something special about Silent Hill, don't you? You should come back when you have the time. The things we could show you..."

"I'm...I don't think I'm that interested."

Vincent waited a moment before giving a frustrated sigh. "No. I know what you're thinking Angela, but we're not interested in _that._ The last thing our church needs now is _another_ PTV-popping maniac who thinks they have all the answers. You...you seem like a nice person. A little nervous, but that's okay. We all have a lot to learn."

Angela turned her eyes back to the watch. 3:50 - sooner than she would have liked, but James would understand. "I'll...think about it. I'm sorry Vincent, but I need to be going soon."

"No problem." He adjusted his glasses again. "I know I can be a bit of a pill before you get to know me. Tell you what Angela, when you come back, ask for Catherine. She's the woman you got to speak to earlier; I'll let her know you don't bite. You could even talk to _Claudia _if you wanted. I wouldn't recommend it, but...to each her own."

"Thanks" she quickly spat out as she turned to leave.

But she had barely made it to the church doors when she heard his voice again. "And tell James that, whatever his brother-in-law has been telling him, he's welcome here too."

Stopped in her tracks, she turned a little to get a better look from over her shoulder. Somehow, Vincent was right there behind her.

"How...how did you know..."

"I wasn't _quite_ sure...not until you told me, anyway."

* * *

><p>Well, score a few more points for what James called the 'crazy' theory regarding Mary's family.<p>

He had no idea what exactly he was getting into when he started dating Mary. At first, her family seemed so...was 'respectable' the right word for it? Well, parts of the story deserved it anyway. Adam was a hero - there were no other words for it. And James had never heard any horror stories about law and order in Shepherd's Glen.

Somehow, despite his and Mary's efforts, he never fit in. Sometimes he wondered if Mary really fit in herself; they were proud of what she was doing, setting herself up to help other people, but the vibe James got was that Mary's decision to study medicine took them by surprise, and they only went along with it because it seemed a natural fit for the 'fairer sex.'

Mary tried to get him involved in family activities, and they all went along with it. She was a dying woman, after all. It didn't help much; they were polite, but it was obvious they were disappointed with the man Mary had fallen for. Still, he always got the feeling that they were keeping some sort of secret from him. Mary couldn't - or rather, wouldn't - help him on that front. She was very evasive on any subject that came close to a family secret, and always knew just what to say to keep James from pressing the matter.

There were two reasons James called it the 'crazy' theory. First, it seemed absurd. James knew Mary's family had some ties to Silent Hill, and he had read the rumors about some sort of omnipresent secret drug-running cult even before the 'Ripper' made the front page. But the old-fashioned Shepherds involved in the occult? Mary had always been respectful of what remained of James' faith, and she never gave him reason to suspect anything strange about her.

The second reason for the name, of course, was the implications this theory had if it was true.

And this meeting hadn't gone too well. He thought he was just going down to discuss Mary's 'treatment,' for whatever the hell it was worth anymore, but first Adam let the spokeswoman of the Silent Hill Smile Support Society, and her chipper friend, say their piece about how sorry they were about James' loss, how much their organization meant to his wife, and how they would be there for him. Her friend, however, was the one to insinuate that, at this point in his life, perhaps he might find some meaning or purpose with them. He would be helping a good cause, after all.

After that, James didn't waste much more time there. He told Adam that, assuming Mary agreed as well, he didn't think there would be a problem with the latest proposed treatment...whatever it was. And Adam said he was going to be the one to discuss it with Mary the next day.

And so James walked out to the 4S building's parking lot with a feeling a relief. And it wasn't just to be out of there; now he had an excuse not to visit - or, as he thought of it, bother - Mary.

And what a visit it would have been. _You never told me anything about this. How exactly would you explain it anyway?_

He knew the answer. She wouldn't. She'd probably get mad at him for accusing her of lying to him. And of all the times to start an argument with her...

Thankfully, he was in the clear for the rest of the weekend. _Wait by the car for a few minutes, and if Angela's running late just circle the block until you see her. She can wait a little bit without freaking out, right?_

James didn't have to wait. He missed her the first time he passed by his car, his attention drawn to the sidewalks surrounding the building instead. But when he turned around again he caught a glimpse of her in his peripheral vision.

Yes, there she was, sitting in the fetal position besides his driver's door, hidden between his car and the one beside it.

"James, I...I..." He only got a brief look at her terrified face, eyes a little red, before she hid it away in her hands.

As James knelt down beside her he could hear her weeping, presumably not the first time she had done so in the past few minutes. "I'm sorry James! I don't know how he found out! I promise! I didn't tell him anything!"

"What? Angela, what happened?"

"I don't know how, but he knew! He knew we knew each other! He knew we were meeting here!" She peeked her face back up, her eyes filled with tears. "I swear I didn't tell him anything, but somehow he knew!"

He stood by, dumfounded, not even having enough time to try and guess exactly who 'he' was before she started crying again. And James put his arms around her; no doubt he was making a spectacle of himself, but there wasn't much else to do.


End file.
